One in A Million
by Planet0ne
Summary: A story about loss, strength and love. Wirt deals with the greif over his brother until he realizes that Greg isn't really gone. More chapters to come! Give some feedback, I want to make this story as amazing as possible! Enjoy :)
1. Chapter 1

A chill swept through the entire first floor, like the cold wind that was rustling in the stormy night outside. Wirt shivered. There was something about the building that never felt right. He wasn't quite sure if it was distinct smell of chemicals, or the constant beeping of the machines that covered the walls. Or maybe it was the just the time. He never liked these types of building during the daytime, but it was half past 11 on a Tuesday night, which, to Wirt, gave off a whole new level of creepy.

He looked around the dark hallway in disgust. Everything gave off such a sad vibe. The nurses, the "get well soon" balloons and the sick children laying in their beds. And with this thought, Wirt determined he would never step foot in a hospital ever again.

The 15 year old refused to be in his brothers room, even though his family insisted he should spend as much time with Greg as possible. Wirt knew why, and with that in his mind, he sat in the hallway.

He could hear the faint sounds of laughter and chatting from his relatives trying to keep Greg in good spirits. He knew that was completely unnecessary, because Greg was never in a bad mood. No matter what he had to go through in the past year, Greg never failed to keep a smile on his face.

To Wirt, thinking that Greg needed to be cheered up was just insulting, but he would never say that. He would barely say anything, in fact, and instead just collect all of his thoughts into poems in his journal, which rested on his lap.

Suddenly, the door creaked open. It was his mother. She had gotten a lot older this year, and Wirt could tell. Her hair had greyed and thinned. The bags under her eyes never failed to show, and her smile had faded. Wirt cringed at the sight of her, reminding himself that this wasn't just a bad dream.

"Wirt, honey," she said. "Your brother really needs you to come in and talk." Wirt knew there was no way out of this. He stood up and walked to the door, the anxiety building up in his chest.

He opened the door and saw his brother, which again, made him cringe. Wirt sat down at a chair adjacent to his aunt and uncle, both of whom had puffy, red eyes. He looked at Greg, and immediately felt the urge to cry. Greg was so skinny. It seemed as though every bone in his body would rip through his pale skin. And his eyes, the most blue Wirt had ever seen them, were lit up with glee as he saw his older brother. But no matter how hard he tried, Wirt could never distract himself from Greg's bald, shiny head. No seven year old should ever have to go through something like that.

He then looked around the room. Wirt had seen it before. It was a big room, that is, big for a hospital room. It felt smaller, however, with all of the people in it. Every single one of the chairs was filled, with more people left to stand. Everyone loved Greg. Wirt wondered who would show up if he was in that situation.

His eyes then directed to a table in the back, filled with brightly wrapped presents and big balloons. Wirt thought it was useless. He knew Greg would never get to play with these.

"Hi Wirt, O' brother O' mine!"

"Hi Greg," Wirt chuckled. Though Greg did lose his hair, the pep in his voice never failed to show.

"Aw rats, I was just telling Jason Funderburker about what happened during my last chemo, and now I'm going to have to tell it all over again!"

"Oh. Sorry."

"That's ok Wirt. I can tell you! So, I said that I had eaten a whole lot of watermelon, and then I threw up, and my throw up was red! And it even smelled like watermelon, too!"

"Ew, Greg. Can, can we talk about something else?" Wirt would give anything to change the subject.

"Aw, let your brother talk," said their grandfather. "I love his stories, they remind me so much of your mother!"

"I did have quite the stories, didn't I," laughed their mother. "But anyways, do you want to continue, Greg?"

"That's ok, but can I talk to Wirt all by myself?" He asked. Everyone went quiet. Wirt shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn't that he didn't want to hear what his brother had to say, but it was the sheer thought of looking at him for more than five seconds. It made him so sad, to see his brother in such a state. Wirt thought of how Greg used to dress, and how he had once worn a teapot on his head for an elephant costume. He smiled.

"Oh, um, of course, sweetheart," Their mother said. She had a way of showing what she was thinking before even saying anything, and by this one comment, Wirt knew immediately that she was _not_ on board with this plan. But what mother would be, knowing that they have one last night to spend time with their son.

Then she turned to Wirt. "Please don't be too long, and call me in if _anything_ happens." Everyone slowly got up and filed out. After the last bit of people left and closed the door, Greg turned to his brother.

"Wirt, I want you to come sit with me," Greg said, shifting over and moving all of the wires, connecting him to the machines. Wirt hesitated, but got up and sat next to his brother. Greg had been unrecognizable these past few months. The constant chemotherapy had taken a toll, and the once active kid was now incredibly weak, like a feeble old man.

"Hi Wirt. I know you haven't really wanted to see me these past few days, but I want you to tell me the stories of the unknown," he said. Wirt rolled his eyes. Ever since him and Greg had ventured to The Unknown last fall, Greg had asked to tell the story of all of their adventures within it. The story was often long and complicated, but Wirt knew better than to complain. Not this time.

He began by telling him what had happened that Halloween night, and then how they fell over the garden wall, and met Beatrice and danced in the harvest and sand about potatoes and molasses (Greg would do the honors of singing that part) and every little detail of their adventure. Greg closed his eyes and listened to each and every word, and it was easy to tell which part he like the best, because a big smile would stretch across his face.

"Ha, thats my favorite part, the one-" Greg was interrupted by a sudden cough. Wirt said nothing of it, until it continued to progressively get worse. Suddenly, he heard a loud, repetitive beeping from one of the machines. Wirt's heart skipped.

"Um, uh, Greg! Stay right there! I'll, uh, I'll be right back," Wirt said in a hurry. Greg laughed as he thought of how he could possibly get up and go anywhere, but that wasn't what Wirt meant. He ran to the door.

"Mom!"

The rest of the night felt like a blur. He remembered the nurses dashing in and checking on Greg, his crying mother holding Greg's hand and Wirt, who stood motionless at the foot of the bed, his face turning paler by the second. Wirt thought he was going to throw up.

But Greg didn't panic. He didn't cry. He didn't whine, complain, sulk or lose hope during his entire battle. And now, only now, Wirt was realising that he had never appreciated his brother for the courage he gave. Tears ran down his cheeks as he ran to Greg's bedside, grabbing his arm.

Greg didn't hesitate one second when his brother came to give him the biggest, best hug he had ever received. He smiled his big, wide, amazing Greg smile, the one Wirt hadn't seen in a very long time.

Greg knew why his brother was upset, but he knew that Wirt would not be alone. At least, not for long.

Suddenly, Greg felt exhaustion that he had never experienced in his whole life. He leaned back on his pillow and breathed slower and slower. He felt like he wanted to just take a long nap. Everything felt colder. The sounds faded.

"Into the Unknown," he breathed.

The beeping went silent.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

Wirt sat on the river bank, tossing crumpled poems into the tranquil stream. He often found himself sitting there, without remembering the amount of time it took him to walk across town, sneak through the gate in the graveyard, hop over the garden wall and sit himself down. Either way, it was Wirt's safe haven. A place where he could think without being disturbed by his grieving mother and step-father.

He layed back on the soft grass and thought about the previous day. It had been Greg's funeral, and in Wirt's mind, everything went wrong. Everything.

It was the warmest, brightest day of the season. The autumn leaves were the brightest orange, yellow and red they had been all year. The family said it was a sign from Greg, but Wirt was disgusted by this thought. Disgusted by how little the family knew about Greg. The rain had been his favorite, and though Greg appreciated a sunny day, he would always prefer splashing in the mud. As Wirt walked to the church that morning, he wanted nothing more than to jump in a puddle with his brother.

The service was held in a church on the west side of town. It was nothing special. The walls were painted a simple beige, the pews were made of dark wood. Same old, same old. Wirt hated everything about it.

Death had been a common subject of Greg's, during his final months. Greg knew what was coming. He knew, and he wasn't afraid to talk about it. When he and Wirt would talk seriously about what would happen to Greg, he had always requested the same thing for his funeral. Wirt could hear it so clearly in his head:

"Oh, oh, and for my funeral, I want there to be a gazillion balloons! In every color, ever! Ooh, and then, I want there to be streamers! And cakes! And ice cream! And sprinkles! Wirt, I'm telling you, my funeral would be the best one ever!"

As for the service, there were no balloons. There were no streamers. There were no cakes, ice cream or sprinkles. It was filled with sad relatives in dark clothing dabbing tissues to their faces.

All of this overwhelmed Wirt. He didn't last ten minutes in the building, and ran out before the priest even said a word. At the time, Wirt didn't even know where his legs would take him. He just ran.

Eventually, he ended up in the same place he always did: the river bank. He would sit there for, actually, Wirt didn't know how long he would be there. He had been at the stream since he left the service, but he knew his parents wouldn't worry. Their focus would be on Greg. It always had been.

Wirt sat up, and started to speak out another poem. That was his technique. He would say the poem that popped into his head out loud. If he liked it, he would write it down in his journal, but he always ended up ripping them out and throwing them into the stream. The first time he had done that, it had been out of frustration. But lately, he had only been throwing in his best poems. He had a small sliver of hope that Greg was going to read them, with him being in the unknown and all.

That was the other thing. Wirt _knew_ that Greg was in the unknown. He knew that in the choice between heaven and the unknown, Greg chose the second option. Afterall, he and Wirt had already been down there, so it wasn't much of an unknown world to them.

The thing that frightened Wirt, however, was the sheer thought of what was to become of his brother while he was in the land of scary, wild creatures. It was difficult enough to go down there together, but little Greg, all by himself, it was just… _horrifying._

Wirt hoped that Greg found Beatrice somehow. He knew the chance were slim, with the unknown being such a vast place, but maybe he had somehow just-

Wirt found himself sobbing. His body shaked so much that he thought he would throw up. He curled his body into a ball, and with his head resting on his knees, Wirt let millions of tears roll down his face. He shivered. His stomach growled. Everything felt so painful, but Wirt didn't do anything, until he heard a voice.

"Ah, oh jeez, ooh okay, ouch. Alright, okay, oh, got it." Sara said as she climbed over the wall. As she dusted off her knees, she saw Wirt. "Ah, I knew you'd be here."

Wirt, quickly realizing that had been crying, rubbed his eyes and tried to play it cool.

"Oh, uh, hey Sara!"

She didn't fall for any of it. She took his hand, and while looking straight at him, she gave Wirt a small smile. Sara was the kind of person that could say things with her eyes. To Wirt, the look in her eyes told him that everything was going to be ok. And while he couldn't muster a smile, she knew he truly appreciated it.

"Hey g-g-guys, a l-l-little h-help," Jason said as he sat atop the wall.

"Oh please, you really need our help to get you off that wall? You're fifteen!" Said Sara, shaking her head.

Wirt chuckled as he said, "It's like, five feet off the ground."

"Well _s-s-sorry_ I interrupted your l-l-little l-love fest."

"Such a baby," Sara muttered as she cupped her hands so Jason had a foothold.

Once he was down, he and Sara sat down next to Wirt. Sara sat still, and like Wirt, looked around to appreciate the beautiful setting.

The river bank sloped down to the stream. The grass was overgrown, but it was as soft as a pillow. The trees on the other side formed a sort of canopy over the stream, providing coverage for wildlife that roamed around. The trio loved it for this, but they also enjoyed its secrecy. It was like their own world.

After a few moments of silence, Jason pointed to the soggy paper floating in the stream.

"W-wirt, did y-y-you _throw_ a-away your p-p-papers? T-that's t-t-terrible for the w-wildlife, you k-k-know."

"Oh, that's right! I read a column in the newspaper about a woman who dumped a bunch of her trash in a pond, and something extremely dangerous must have been in there, because it completely destroyed the ecosystem!" She started fiddling with the inside of her backpack, trying to see if she had thrown the old paper in there. She tended to be a bit of a know-it-all.

"But anyways," she continued," I don't think that paper would be terrible for the environment at all. If it was plastic, that would be a different story." She then turned to Wirt, with a confused expression on her face. "Why _did_ you throw your poems in there?"

Wirt turned red in the face. "I, oh, I, um-"

"Oh, you were just frustrated," Sara interrupted.

"Oh, I-I get it," Jason replied.

Sara turned to Wirt and gave him a wink. She knew they were for Greg. Wirt smiled.

Jason stood up and dusted off his pants from the damp grass. "I-I-I need to g-get going, it's g-g-getting awfully l-late," he said as he checked his watch. "M-m-my parents n-need me h-h-home."

"Bye, Jason," Sara and Wirt said simultaneously. They laughed.

"U-um, S-S-Sara?" Jason said, looking towards the wall.

"Ugh, on it," she said as walked over to help him up and over.

After Jason was settled and on his way, Sara sat back down next to Wirt. His stomach growled.

"Jeez, Wirt, you must be starving! You were out here all night! Gosh, weren't you freezing?" She said, putting her hand on his forehead to check if he was sick.

"I mean, probably, but I didn't really feel it."

"Your parents had also asked where you were, and I told them that you came over to my place. Wirt, what if you weren't here, and I couldn't find you? Your parents would have blamed me for losing you!" She shook her head, but then looked up at Wirt. "Hey, that gives me and idea, you should come over!"

"Oh, um, I… I don't know, Sara," he said, blushing.

"I mean, hear me out. You probably don't want to go home to your parents right you. I know I don't really know what you're going through, but I can take a pretty good guess that home is not the place to be after all of this." She was right. Everything in Wirt's house made him think of Greg. "Plus," she continued, "my dad just bought some popcorn, and I have The Maze Runner on DVD."

Wirt looked up, thinking, and then shook his head yes. It was a pretty convincing argument.

"That sounds great, Sara."

"Good, then let's get going!" She said as she stood up. She held out a hand for Wirt, and after he grabbed his poetry journal, they were on their way.

They hopped over the wall with ease (unlike someone they knew) and walked through town to Sara's house, deep in conversation.

They ate popcorn and laughed all night. Sara had grabbed a blanket for them, with it being so chilly that night. They both soon realized that full stomachs and a cozy setting was the perfect equation for drowsiness.

Wirt had almost forgotten about his longing for Greg. All he could think about was Sara. He reached for her hand. She grabbed it back. They fell asleep with their heads on each other's shoulders.

Deep in the depths of the unknown, while every other critter, bug, monster and human slept, little Greg laid awake. He clutched the once crumpled papers to his chest, and looked into the stream. He knew what he had to do.

* * *

Authors Note:

Hello guys! I hope you're enjoying this story. I would like to apologize for the second chapter confusion, as this is my first fanfiction and I didn't know how to properly add a chapter. Thank you for your patience. Chapter 3 is on the way!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

"Into the Unknown," Greg breathed.

The beeping went silent.

Greg felt a sudden freezing sensation all around him. His chest felt tight. His limbs felt numb. He opened his eyes, and immediately closed them tight. Then, he realized where he was. Using all the energy the six-year-old could muster, Greg swam to the surface and pulled himself onto the riverbank. He hadn't expected to arrive in the water.

"Oh, rats," Greg said, looking at his sopping wet and muddy clothes, and then at the endless dark forest. The nights in the Unknown were always terribly cold. Greg shivered as he hugged his body, looking around for any sign of life. He knew that being wet would only make make matters worse, or chilier in this case.

"Hmm, well, I won't do any good by just sitting around!" He said enthusiastically, as he got up and started walking through the trees and bushes. Greg, no matter what situation he was in, would always manage to stay motivated. Wirt was always awestruck by this.

Greg had been on the move for about a half hour, whistling to himself, when he stopped to scratch his head. His hand felt this soft, unrecognizable thing sitting on his scalp.

"Wait a minute!" Greg yelled excitedly. " _My hair!_ " He shrieked in delight. Greg hadn't had any hair for a good six months. He continued to rapidly pet his own head, continuing to remind himself that he had his hair back.

Suddenly, Greg felt exhausted. He hadn't had been able to go for long walks since he started his treatment, and it was definitely overwhelming for someone his age. He laid himself down on a patch of moss, and looked up at the stars.

"Goodnight, Wirt," Greg smiled. He had a feeling that Wirt would be saying goodnight to him too. Greg closed his eyes and drifted to sleep.

 _CRACK_.

Greg's eyes shot open, and he frantically stood up, looking around. It was daytime. Greg wondered how long he had been sleeping.

"Oh, right. Hehe!" He laughed as he remembered he was no longer in a hospital bed.

 _CRACK._

The same noise again. Greg figured he should ignore it, but his curiosity got the best of him. He started to walk in the direction of the noise.

This time, it was a lot easier to walk. Now that it was day, of course, it was easier to see through the forest. It definitely gave Greg a boost of confidence too, knowing where exactly he was stepping.

The weather in the Unknown was always the same, it seemed to Greg. The sky was always overcast, and the temperature was a solid 50 degrees. It felt like everyday was an Autumn day.

Greg's once soaking clothes had seemed to dry a bit overnight, and to his surprise, Greg wasn't in a hospital gown, but in the clothes he would have worn on any given day: His white, long-sleeve shirt with green overalls.

All of this change made Greg feel invincible, and he raced through the forest determined to find the cause of the noise. His running came to a halt, however, because this time he heard voices.

 _CRACK._

"Jeez, Bennett, you chop wood like a four year old."

"Oh yeah, I'd like to see you try!"

"Bring it on. I'll show you how it's done."

 _CRACK_.

"Haha, you barely chopped a fourth of it!"

"Oh you little-"

Greg peeked around a tree to see the two boys wrestling in a yard in front of a wooden house. He tried to get a better view, when his foot got caught in a root and he fell. The boys turned their attention to Greg and walked up to him.

"Benjamin, what is it?"

"Oh, I think it must have been some sort of animal - holy crap!"

"What, what is it?" The boy said, trying to get a better look.

"It's a kid!"

"No way!"

Greg stepped out behind the tree.

"I'm actually a stealer! I'm here to steal your… your… your everything!"

"What? No you're not."

"Yeah I am."

"Then prove it. Here, go steal that piece of wood over there," One of the boys said, pointing to the stump where they were chopping wood.

"Okie dokie," Greg said. The boys snickered.

Greg walked over to the piece of wood, looked at the boys to make sure they were watching, and attempted to pick up the piece. Greg used all of his might, but his little body couldn't get it an inch off the ground.

"Hahahaha!" The boys said, pointing and laughing. Greg laughed along too, because he figured that there was a funny joke that had been said.

The boys had the same laugh. In fact, the more Greg looked at them, the more he realized how similar they really were. They both were tall and skinny boys, with curly red hair and freckles that covered just about every inch of their faces.

"Bennett! Benjamin! Are you finished with your chores?" Called a lady from the porch of the house.

"Almost, but look, ma! We found a little boy!"

Even from the yards away the boys were from the house, they could all see the mother's face go white. Her expression immediately went from soft to stern.

"Bring him inside. Now," She almost whispered. For some reason, though, she was easy to hear.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

The boys walked Greg inside, and led him to a couch. He looked around. The house was much bigger on the inside than on the outside. He sat in a living room with a couch, two rocking chairs and a fireplace. His eyes then brought him to the dining room, where they had a large round table next to a wooden staircase. It very much reminded him of pictures he saw in books of the early 1900's.

"I like your house," Greg said, admiring the different style of architecture. He didn't know how to phrase the question of whether they were from the 1920's, so he ended up saying, "Are you guys old?"

"Excuse me?" Said the mother. She wore what seemed to be some sort of bonnet and an apron. "No, no we're not _old._ "

The two boys laughed again.

"Boys, this is not a laughing matter, you hear me?" They went quiet. "Listen, young man-"

"My name is Greg."

"Okay, _Greg_ , this is extremely serious. I need to know how and why you're here." Now some more of the family was starting to file into the room. He soon realized how big of a family this was. There had to be at least nine of them.

"Wait, is that, _Greg_?" He sat up and looked around. The voice was so recognizable, yet there wasn't a bird in the house to be seen. Suddenly the girl, who looked about 15, ran up to Greg and hugged him, with tears streaming down her face.

"Greg, oh Greg! I can't believe it's you! I've missed you so much"

"Oh, um, I don't think I know you. Hmmm, you sound an awful lot like this bird I met last time I visited, her name was Beatrice. Do you happen to know her?"

"You dummy, I _am_ her! Remember? The wings, and the scissors?"

Greg stared blankly, but then everything clicked like the last piece to a puzzle. He jumped up and hugged her back.

" _Beatrice!_ "

After a long hug fest, and many weird stares from the family, Beatrice let go.

"Wait, where's Wirt?" She asked, looking around to try and see him.

"Oh, well this time he won't be coming, but I think that brother O' mine will join me sooner or later."

Beatrice's face went white, just as her mother's had.

"Greg, don't tell me that you… that you…"

"That you died?" Said the smallest girl of the bunch.

" _Bella!_ " Everyone yelled.

"Don't worry, Bella. It's okay that I died, because everyone dies, and that's a rock fact!" Greg smiled, holding the rock that he (once again) stole from Mrs. Daniel's garden. The family's tension seemed to ease, and everyone started talking again.

"Well, Greg, do you have any place to stay?" The father asked him. He looked exactly like the boys, with red hair and freckles. He wore a green bowtie and had a curly red moustache.

"Nope!"

"You can't expect yourself to live in _these_ woods alone!" Another girl said.

"Yeah! The Unknown has creatures that are, well, unknown!" Said another child. More chatter continued as they discussed what would become of Greg. After five long minutes of hushed chatter, Beatrice rose.

"You should… stay with us!" she shouted out. Immediately, all of the children started to nod their heads in agreement. The mother gave a sharp look at her husband.

"George, can we talk about this in the kitchen," She said in a stern voice. It reminded Greg of his own mother. He felt homesick.

Everyone stared off for a while, but Beatrice broke the silence once again.

"Well, since you're here for now, I'll introduce everyone," She pointed to an extremely tall boy, with a small beard starting to grow. "That's my older brother Billy, he's 17 and the oldest. Then there's Beth, she's 12. You've already met Bennett and Benjamin, they're 10. Bridget is 8, Blake is 6, Bella is 4 and Bo is 2," she breathed heavily, "Quite a mouthful."

"That's cool beans! My name is Greg, and I'm 6 and a little bit."

"A little bit?" Smiled Beth.

"Mm hmm!"

The children giggled and talked with Greg, who seemed to be getting along nicely with the bunch. Moments later, George and his wife walked back into the living room. They looked at Greg.

"Greg, we can't simply leave you in the forest forever. Lord knows what could happen to a small child like you," he sighed, "We're going to let you live with us. I'll set up an extra bed in the boys' room."

All of the children cheered. They hadn't had a guest in a very long time.

That day had been an action packed one for Greg. After the announcement of his permanent staying, he had gotten the full introduction of what was expected of him when he entered this family.

Chores were mandatory for everyone in the family, and they would start their day at 5:30 to get a head start. He was assigned the roles of fishing with Blake, who was nearly the exact same age as Greg. All of it was very new to him. He had never had to fish or hunt for his food, or get heat strictly from a fireplace or even dust furniture in general. However, Greg's determination never let him down, and he was sure to prove to his new family that he could do any task thrown his way.

Later that night, as Greg laid awake in his new cot surrounded by lots of snoring boys, he felt something. It was like a pain he had never felt before, coming from his chest, but this wasn't a normal type of pain. It was the pain of someone that had lost everything. Greg clutched his chest and rolled on his side, trying to ignore it. He clenched his teeth and squinted his eyes, trying to think of what could be causing this.

Greg wasn't too homesick, and in fact, didn't really feel that homesick at all. He had people that cared about him, even in the Unknown. But, as Greg was going through the possibilities, he thought of his brother. _Wirt_.

Greg sat up in his bed, panting. The pain he was feeling was from his brother. Greg only imagined what Wirt was feeling right now.

Even though Greg was much smaller and _much_ less mature, he was always mentally stronger. He remembered the times when Wirt would just break down, whether it was because of school or family or Sara. Greg clutched his heart. He knew what he needed to do.

In his soft new socks, pants and tank top, Greg stepped out of the house into the cold, dark night. He shivered and closed the front door.

"Greg!" Beatrice whispered. Greg jumped, and turned around to see her sitting on a rocking chair, looking out into the night.

"Beatrice? Oh, tehehe, you scared me!"

"Greg, what are you doing out?"

"Hmm, looks to me that the question is what are _you_ doing out?"

"Oh, me? I guess I just come out here to think. I've been doing it ever since you and Wirt came, now that I think of it."

Greg gave a blank stare, and said, "Well, you can think, and I'll be going."

"Greg."

All of a sudden, he started to tear up. "Beatrice, I promise I won't be gone for long, but Wirt _needs_ me right now! He's hurting really bad!" Greg bawled. Beatrice looked at him with big, sorrowful eyes and nodded. She gave a small smile.

"Tell Wirt that I miss him," she whispered.

Greg nodded, and wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"Say hi to Jason Funderburker, or Benjamin Franklin, or George- gah, whatever the frogs name is."

Greg grinned, his classic, bright Greg grin. He turned and walked into the endless forest.

He was never told that this was possible. He never learned how to do anything like this. But, somehow, Greg knew exactly what needed to be done.

His feet carried through endless rows of trees and bushes and leaves, until he saw the clear opening where the river lay. He kneeled down on the riverbank, and looked up into the millions of bright stars.

 _I'm going to be brave_ , Greg thought. He smiled, closed his eyes, and with one deep breath he jumped into the river.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:

Wirt awoke in confused state. Frantically looking around, he met eyes with Sara who was standing in the doorway of her living room. She began to laugh.

"You should've seen the look on your face!" She chuckled. Wirt smiled too, until he remembered that he fallen asleep on her couch. He had no idea how long she had been up. Wirt immediately blushed at the thought.

"Ah, jeez Sara, I'm so sorry I fell as-"

"Dude, don't worry about it at _all_. I actually had a lot of fun, watching movies with you and stuff." She smiled, and then pointed towards the kitchen. "I hope you like your eggs sunny-side up."

It was a particularly grim saturday morning. Outside, the clouds showed their darkest greys, and before long it started to heavily rain. Wirt put on his orange sweater as he walked into the kitchen, but not before neatly folding the blankets and placing them on the side of the couch.

Sara's house was nice. As Wirt looked around, he noticed that the family preferred a dark and clean look. Unlike his house, the kitchen was recently renovated, with all updated appliances. Wirt couldn't remember the last time his family had bought something as simple as a toaster. As he thought about it more, he realized it was around the same time Greg was born. His heart ached.

They sat at a small round table in the corner of the room. Sara was chatty, but quickly realized that her friend was not feeling it. He looked down at his plate of eggs and poked at them with his fork.

"Come on, Wirt, they're sunny-side up. Just how you like 'em," she said, holding her plate and waving it in his face, hoping for some sort of response. She got nothing.

Sara sighed, and looked at Wirt, who was sitting across from her. There was a moment of silence, and then instinctively Sara grabbed Wirt's hand. He quickly looked up and her, blushing.

"Wirt, I'm your friend. I'm not like Jason where I'll be judging your every word. I'm here for you, and you can tell me what you're feeling, ok?" Wirt gave a soft sigh, and looked at her. His eyes started to water before he even moved his lips.

"Sara," he began, "I'm such a terrible person. I gave Greg such a hard time, and I didn't listen or want to talk to him, and I ignored him," tears started rolling down his face at a rapid rate, "Even while he was sick, I hated him. I hated him since he was born, because of my stupid parents, but he had nothing to do with my dad leaving! He had nothing to do with my mom marrying that idiot guy! What was I thinking? Now, Greg is dead, Sara. _Dead_! And I didn't appreciate him at all when I should have. He probably died thinking that I was some sick monster!" He was bawling now, and Sara was listening to every word, rubbing his hand with her thumb.

She didn't tell him shh, she didn't tell him everything would be okay, she didn't say anything. Sara just let him cry all he needed.

After a few minutes, Wirt's breathing slowed and his cries turned into sniffles. He looked up at Sara, and while he didn't do this verbally, he thanked her. She could see it in his big brown eyes.

Sara nodded her head towards the door and said, "Come on. Let's go over to your place, and I can give you feedback on your clarinet piece. I know that marching band auditions are coming up." Wirt gave a small smile and blushed. Clarinet helped him calm down, take his mind off of things. He loved that Sara remembered that.

They placed the rest of the plates in the sink, grabbed their belongings and walked out on their way to Wirt's house. It was just as cold outside as it had been all week. Wirt shivered, and Sara put her arm around him. He blushed, but didn't pull away. They both smiled. If there was one good thing that came out of this tragedy, it was how close Wirt and Sara became.

Meanwhile, beyond the graveyard gates and over the garden wall, a small boy came out of a deep stream, panting and coughing. He laid down on the damp grass, on his hands and knees. Greg lifted his head, looking around.

"I made it. I made it," he said with every heavy breath. He finally stood up, and dusted himself off. "Don't worry Wirt. I'm coming."

Greg, not realizing he was completely covered in mud, head to toe, started his journey through his old town and to his home. He clutched his rock, and walked (making sure he didn't step on any cracks. He was not willing to break his mother's back).

"Um, excuse me?" Greg turned his head in shock. His mission was to see Wirt, and not anyone else he used to know when he was alive. That would completely ruin everything. "Are you alright, little boy? You're filthy." Greg was greeted by a mother in jogging pants with a baby in a stroller. He didn't recognize her, but more importantly, she didn't recognize him. She was right. He _was_ filthy. The mud covered every part of him, making it almost impossible to tell that it was Greg.

"Oh, uh, yes ma'am! I'm perfectly alright. So alright, that I'm going to go home right away and clean myself, pronto!" He saluted her like a soldier and began to march away. She shrugged and continued on her walk. Greg sighed a sigh of relief, and continued. At least he had some sort of disguise.

The rest of the walk went smoothly. Nobody, even people he had previously known could tell it was him. They simply thought it was another little boy that had wound up in the mud.

He turned the corner on Viribus Street, and stopped. He saw his house. His _home._ The home where he learned to walk, talk, read, ride a bike. The home where he was loved by his mother, father and brother. The small, two bedroom cottage-like home. Greg felt a rush of energy like nothing before. He wanted nothing more than to see his mom and dad, go to school and play with his old friends and walk around to greet all of his old neighbors, but there was a job to be done. Greg, the hyperactive seven year old who collected frogs, knew that. He walked up to the small bird bath at the edge of his yard and wiped the mud off his face.

He turned his head towards the front of his home. The door was wide open. Someone was home. Actually, now that he looked through the windows, two people were home. One person got a glance at Greg, and stopped, staring at him. He slowly walked closer to find that it was no other than Sara the Bee! (Greg had been calling her that ever since the football meet last halloween.

Sara turned towards Wirt, who was standing in the living room, assembling his clarinet. "Uhh, Wirt?" She said, still staring at Greg, but still oblivious to who it was. Greg continued to walk closer, slowly. "Wirt, there's someone at the door."

Wirt put down his instrument, and curiously, he stepped next to Sara in the doorway. He squinted his eyes.

"Hello?" He said. "Are you los-," Wirt froze. His heart started to beat faster than he felt it ever had. Sweat started to form on his forehead. The overalls. The rock. The, _face!_

"Wait. Wait. Wait. What?" Sara started. She caught onto this as well. A visage of pure confused formed.

"Whhh. Whaatt-. What?" Wirt mumbled. There was a moment of silence. Pure, empty silence.

"Wirt?" Greg said, tearing up and stepping forward. Sara gaped and held onto the doorframe for support.

"Oh fuck. Shit. Shit shit shit." He was shaking his head violently. " _This is impossible! This is crazy! You're dead! This isn't real. This isn't. It can't be. This is impossible! Greg, you're dead! This isn't real!_ " Wirt screamed, backing up and falling over the coffee table. Greg put his hands up, waving him to stop.

"Wirt, it's me. I'm here! Let me expla-."

" _This can't be happening._ " He was going bezerk. His entire body shaked. His eyes were frantic and all over Greg, trying to make sense of what was happening. Sara remained frozen in the corner.

"Wirt, Wirt, Wirt, it's ok. It's me. It's me, I'm here," Greg repeatedly said, slowly walking closer towards his older brother. Wirt was on the floor now, looking up at Greg in utter shock, but not saying anything anymore. They stayed in that position, all three of them, for more than half an hour. They just couldn't understand why this little boy who had died of cancer, was now standing in their living room, trying to calm everyone down.

It took a very long while, but Greg managed to bring both Wirt and Sara to sit on the couch next to each other. They had both thrown up more than two times now, and even though Greg's legs ached from standing for hours, he pushed through.

Sara was the first person to speak.

"H-h-how? How are you here, Greg? I'm going crazy, aren't I? Oh my God!" She threw her face onto her hands. Wirt remained speechless.

"Guy's, this isn't crazy. You're not going crazy. The Unknown can do weird things when it needs to. Like, right now." Wirt then found the urge to speak.

"Weird? You call _this_ weird? ARE YOU INSANE? This is-is-is beyond weird! You were dead, and no what, you just crawled out of the ground?" He started to cry. "Oh, don't tell me you crawled out of your grave!"

Greg looked disgusted. "No, I didn't! I'm not some sort of zombie! I'm Greg. I only got muddy from the dirt near on the riverbank."

Wirt sighed, but just barely. Greg understood it would be a bad reaction at first, but he didn't expect it to take this long. Sara and Wirt looked at each other. Wirt began to slowly cry, a sad, whimpering cry. A cry of a broken boy. He stood up, and bawling, kneeled in front of Greg. He stared at his eyes. They were the same, big blue and beautiful eyes.

Wirt grabbed his brother and brought him into his arms. Greg began to cry. They continued to hug for minutes on end, before looking at each other. They touched each others heads, like trying to make sure they weren't dreaming. They weren't. Greg was here. He was here to help Wirt, and his first step was complete.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6:

The rest of that day was an emotional roller coaster for Wirt. Sara, too, but in a different way. There were times where they wouldn't speak for hours, and then they would go off on rants filled with millions of questions. They paced the floor, they bit their fingernails, they cried, they laughed, but mostly, they would just go up to Greg and touch his head or hands, like they were trying to prove with their own minds that they weren't making this up.

As for Greg, he was patient. _Extremely_ patient. He spent the entire day trying to calm Wirt and Sara, and answering all of their questions. A recurring one was they question of why he was there, and no matter how many times he answered, they just couldn't grasp it. By 8 o'clock that night, Greg was getting frustrated. It was past his bedtime, and all he wanted to do was go frog hunting. But, the progress was starting to show. Sara and Wirt were getting used to Greg's presence, and they started to ask different types of questions, like what the unknown was like alone, or if he missed the regular world at all. These were questions that he liked to answer, and it felt for the first time that they were having a real conversation. There was less crying, and more laughing. It became a nice and settled night.

Suddenly, they heard a door close.

"Oh, that's mom and your dad," Wirt said, looking out of the front window to a car that had just pulled up. "They're going to freak when they see you, but I can't wait. They'll be so excited."

Greg stood up, shaking his head. "Wirt," he began, looking worried, "they _can't_ see me."

"What do you mean, they can't see you? You're here, after all, and it wouldn't be so bad."

"Mmm, I don't think that's right. I came here for a mission, and that mission was for _you._ If they see me, or anyone sees me, it will mess with everyone, real bad."

Wirt hesitated. He saw no apparent problem in letting his parents see their son again, the son that they missed so dearly. But the look on Greg's face, a look of true concern, made Wirt agree. He looked at his brother, then back at the window.

"O-ok. Follow, come on, quickly Greg!" He led his brother upstairs, just in the nick of time. Their parents opened the front door, and saw Sara silently sitting on the couch.

Wirt knew that she wouldn't give anything away. Sara was good with small talk, and stalling people. She would probably just say that Wirt had to grab something from his room.

Wirt brought Greg into his old bedroom, which had remained untouched since the day he died. Wirt knew, though, that his mother would go in there, late at night, and sit on Greg's bed, singing the old lullabies that she would sing to Greg. It made Wirt uncomfortable, mostly because he thought of the same thing everytime she was in there. _Would she do that if I died?_

Greg's bedroom was, well, what was to expected from Greg. He had light blue walls and a carpet with trains on it. That was everything in his room that wasn't covered in green. It is his favorite color, and it was not very hard to tell. The covers on his bed were green, with little frogs on it. Everything on his shelf was green, too. Green picture frames, books, crayons and toys. All green.

It was no surprise that the first thing Greg did when he saw his bedroom was run to the corner, where a box of Legos was sitting. He had been building a frog. He picked it up, and admired it.

"Gee, I can't wait to finish this."

"Greg," Wirt began, "we, we don't have time for Legos right now! Mom and your dad are downstairs, and Sara can only stall you for so long! What are you going to do?" Greg leaned his body, so he could get a view of Wirt's room.

"Hmm, well it looks to me that you have a bed."

"I know that!" He said frantically, looking over his shoulder to make sure his parents were still occupied.

"I can just hide under that, for now."

"I, I guess," he replied, but he looked puzzled. "I just don't understand why you can't tell mom or your dad."

"Well," he said, still fiddling with the lego frog, "Mom and dad are different than you. They'd go crazy, and not like you crazy. Like, _crazy_ crazy. They'd probably call the police, or a doctor or a fireman."

"Greg, they wouldn't call a fireman."

He looked up at Wirt, seriously. "I'm trying to say that I would be tested on, and nobody would find any answers. It would be a whole big mess."

Suddenly, Wirt heard a thumping noise. He froze, knowing that someone was walking up the stairs. He quickly turned, and to his relief, found that it was Sara.

"I can only stall them for so much longer, you know."

"I know, I know, I just-" Wirt caught a glance at his room. "We know what we're doing with Greg."

"What's the plan?"

"I think I'll hide him under my bed, just until my parents go to sleep. I'll set up some blankets on the floor after that."

"Sounds cool beans," she said. She then turned to Greg. "I don't really understand what's going on, but I'm super excited to see you again. You're a great kid," she said, rustleing his hair. Greg beamed.

She turned to Wirt. "You're extremely brave, Wirt. Call me at _any_ time if you need me, ok?" She then looked at him, smiled, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Wirt blushed, but smiled too. Greg said gross.

"Bye, guys," she said, turning and walking down the stairs.

"I love you," Wirt whispered under his breath, but he wasn't quiet enough.

"Wirt says that he loves you!" Greg called. Sara turned and giggled. Wirt immediately covered Greg's mouth with his hand.

"No, no, I didn't say that! I mean, I like wouldn't say that I don't love you, but like I didn't say-"

"Goodnight, Wirt," she interrupted.

"Good-goodnight, Sara," he replied.

"Night, night!" Greg yelled, after licking Wirt's hand and making him pull away.

Wirt looked at his little brother, who in one hand tightly clutched a toy frog, and in the other was fastly waving at Sara. Wirt smiled. It was just like old times.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

Wirt led Greg into his bedroom, and for Greg, it was the first time in a while. It wasn't just because Greg was in the hospital for the majority of his last months, but it was also that Wirt had never let his brother in the room in general. He walked in, admiring the strange space as if it were a museum.

The bedroom was much different from Greg's. The most notable of things was that it was much smaller. There was a single window in the corner of the room, on top of the beige walls and red carpet. He had a bed with green covers sitting next to a small oak nightstand. In the middle of the room there was a desk and a chair. On the desk lay countless sheets of paper ripped from his poetry journal, clarinet music, a small train set, books and a cassette recorder. Wirt's room was messy, to say the least.

"Ooh, a train!" Greg said, running over to the desk where the toy lay.

"Greg, don't touch that," Wirt snapped. "Come on, you need to get under the bed, now!"

Greg did as he was told and squeezed under the bed. It was a tight fit, but it made Greg feel as though he was in a sandwich. He giggled.

"Wirt, honey," a soft voice called from downstairs. It was his mother.

"Oh, shit," Wirt muttered under his breath. "Uh, coming!" He turned to Greg. "Don't make a sound."

A muffled "eye eye, captain!" came from under his bed.

Wirt quickly ran down the steps and into the living room to find his mother and step-father. His mother came in for a hug. His step-dad didn't bother. He just looked at the clock and tapped his foot, impatiently.

"I'm so sorry we were late, we got caught up with this meeting at the office," she said.

Wirt's mother had met his step-father at their job, the same job they had today. They did something in marketing, at least, that's what Wirt remembered. His father, his _real_ father, was very close with Wirt when he was little. He was the one that had bought Wirt his first clarinet. But, there were some problems with Wirt's mother, and one day, he just left. Wirt doesn't know anything about him, and hadn't seen him in 8 years. Then his mother quickly met his step-father and had Greg, all in the same year. For his mother, everything had fallen into place perfectly. For Wirt, it totally sucked.

"It's fine, I just… hung out with Sara all day," he replied.

"That's nice, sweetie. Oh, and do thank her father for letting you spend the night. It was very nice on such short notice."

"Sure, no problem, mom."

His step-father and mother yawned at the same time, turned to each other and laughed. Wirt winced. He knew that they loved each other, which was the thing that hurt him the most.

"I think we should go to bed," said his mother. She kissed Wirt goodnight, and she and his step-father walked upstairs to their room. He waited until he heard the door close, and he raced upstairs to Greg's room.

He headed towards the dresser (which was also green, needless to say), and looked for some pijamas. The knobs were dusty, for not having been used for so long. After all, Greg was only wearing hospital gowns during those previous months.

Once he retrieved the pj's, Wirt walked back into his room, closed the door and motioned little Greg to come out.

As he squeezed out from under the bed, Wirt lay blankets down on the ground, to work as a makeshift bed for the night. He then turned to face his brother, who got stuck in his shirt while attempting to take it off. Wirt rolled his eyes and laughed, walking over to help Greg out.

"Ok, lift up your arms," he commanded Greg, to which he did. Wirt then carefully took off the rest of Greg's clothes and put on his pj's for him, something that he would never had done while Greg was alive.

Once he was finished, Wirt looked at his brother, only to cover his eyes with his hands while he rubbed his eyes. Greg looked confused.

"What seems to be the matter, chief?" He asked Wirt, while doing a little bow to pretend that Wirt was some sort of leader. He got nothing in response. Wirt just looked at the ground for a few moments until he sighed.

"I just, I just don't understand what's going on," he said to his brother. He expected to hear another one of Greg's goofy responses, but instead was replied to in a more serious tone.

"Wirt, I promise that it will make more sense soon. For now, can you just do me one itty bitty favor?"

"Like what, Greg?"

"Pleeeeease, with a cherry on top?"

"Alright!" Wirt snapped. It was understandable, it had been a very long day for him.

"Can you just trust me?"

Wirt looked at his brother. He had been asked this many times before, when Greg would ask Wirt for his trust and then go off and break it. For example: Years back, when they were quite smaller, Greg requested to take Wirt for a walk with him blindfolded, so Greg could lead him anywhere in town and then surprise him. Wirt wasn't a fan of the idea, but was intrigued. He allowed Greg to take him, and before he knew it, they ended up in a neighbor's pool, and had to walk home with soggy clothes. Ever since then, Wirt did not trust Greg one bit, but this time he had a funny feeling, a feeling that this time would be different.

Wirt didn't know what was happening, and why Greg was standing in his room when the funeral service was held days before, but at that particular moment in time he had full faith in his brother.

Wirt nodded his head. "I promise," he whispered.

Greg did a little jump while a giant smile stretched across his chubby face, but his exhaustion got the best of him, and he yawned. Wirt stood up.

"We better get to bed, Greg it's getting late," he said, walking him to the small pile of blankets on the floor. Greg plopped down on them, and bundled up underneath the covers.

Wirt got into bed and, too tired to even bother changing into his pajamas, turned off the light on his bedside table. He fell asleep in a matter of seconds.

Not five minutes later, however, he was shaken awake by Greg, who decided to make himself more comfortable and climb into Wirt's bed. Wirt, about to tell Greg to get back in his bed, caught his tongue. Looking down at his little brother, who snuggled right against his arm, he smiled. Greg's presence felt unnatural and wrong, but Wirt decided for once to enjoy what he got. He kissed his little brother on his head, and fell back asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8:

"Wirt? Wirt? Wirt! Get up, kid!" Wirt shot up in bed, startily awoken by his stepfather pounding his fist on the door. He looked down at Greg, who miraculously was sleeping through the noise.

"Ugh, forget it. Me and your mother are leaving for work. Get up at noon, for all that I care, just remember that school starts in fifteen minutes. Sara got here early, I'll tell her to come up."

Wirt, jumped out of bed and stood, panting, in the middle of his room, trying to figure out what to do. _Shit, school,_ Wirt frantically thought, trying to wrap his head around his situation. It was a Monday morning. _What am I going to do with Greg? I got to get dressed, for -_ "Sara," he said aloud, as he heard her walk up the stairs and into his doorway.

She turned and faced Wirt, who was awkwardly fiddling with his bed sheets, trying to make his bed. Sara was ready for the annual october cold-snap that faced ahead, wearing a fluffy blue bomber jacket, with a NASA logo on the arm sleeve. Her dark-blue beanie perfectly matched her jeans; to say the least, she was ready to get going. Wirt was anything but. He blushed due to his state of clothing: Plaid red pajama pants and a plain blue t-shirt. It was only then when she noticed his thin and lengthy physique, one look at his bony arms and you could tell that he didn't exercise. Sara took one look at his hair, which was sticking out in all directions, and giggled.

"Ah, Sara, I-I'm so sorry-"

"Dude, don't worry! Plus," she said, eyeing Greg, "that should be the least of your problems."

"Uh, I know!" He said, quickly throwing on clothes and matting down his hair. "What are we going to do?"

Greg shot up. "I think I have a plan." Both Sara and Wirt put their hand on their chest, startled.

"Jeez, Greg, you gotta stop scaring us like that," Sara said, breathing heavily.

Greg tumbled out of bed and into his room, where he put on a fresh pair of green overalls and a shirt. Sara and Wirt were left awestruck, in a way, remembering that Greg's appearance wasn't a dream.

He got back into his brothers room and sat on the bed. "You guys can go to school, no biggie."

"Oh perfect," Wirt snarled sarcastically, "That just solves the whole 'young child left alone in the house' problem."

"Wirt, give him a bre-"

"No biggie!" Greg interrupted. "I can just go by the creek and play. Nobody knows about it, anyways." He said, swingin his feet. Wirt and Sara exchanged nervous looks, but after all they've been through, trusted Greg more than anything.

"O-o-ok," Wirt stutterd. He walked up to Greg and took him by the shoulders. Greg giggled. "This is extremely serious, Greg, so listen to me. You _cannot_ be seen by anyone, you hear me? _Anyone_."

"Okie dokie artichokie!"

"And-" Wirt started, "I love you. Just be safe."

Greg's eyes widened, and he jumped into his brothers arms. "I love you too, o-brother-o-mine!"

Sara looked at her watch. "Guys, we really have to go. Greg, we can give you a ride to the wall, and you know where to go."

They all rushed down the stairs and out of the house, locked the door and ran into the garage, where Sara had parked her bike. She got on her bike and Wirt on his, having Greg sitting in front of him. He opened his jacket and covered littled Greg up, as to hide his face.

"Let's go," he said.

They pedaled across town, through streets covered with the orange and brown leaves. Greg stuck his head out and felt the cold breeze hit his face. Wirt shivered, but somehow felt warm next to his brother. He smiled.

They arrived at the graveyard and watched little Greg make his way up and down the garden wall. Wirt sighed.

"Hey," Sara said, pulling him into a hug. "We have nothing to worry about. I know for a fact that Greg will be fine." Wirt felt so safe, so warm in Sara's arms. He let out a sigh of relief, and they just stood there, hugging, for a few minutes. They reluctantly pulled away, Wirt with tears rolling down his cheeks. She wiped them away.

"Don't worry, Wirt. Everything's going to be just fine."

Wirt gave a slight smile, before they checked their watches and hopped back on their bikes, making their way to school.

It was a shock to neither of them that they were late to first period, which just so happened to be band. Both of them knew what their friend would have to say about that.

"Y-y-you g-guys are n-nearly twenty m-m-minutes late!" Jason hissed, looking at his watch, and back at them with a frown. "S-stuff like t-that will g-g-go on your p-permanent record!"

"Only if you have three unexcused tardies in the quarter, or twelve overall," Sara retaliated. Jason shrugged and got back to his warm-ups, which included a variety of scales and arpeggios.

Sara played the trumpet, and Jason, like Wirt, played clarinet, but was not nearly as advanced as Wirt. It wasn't that Jason tried, and boy did he try, but Wirt just had better intonation, and overall a natural gift for music.

Wirt was a very complex human being, and had always been very serious and more mature. What happened to his brother just seemed to be the icing on the cake, making Wirt lose little effort he had for making eye-contact and keeping his head up.

The rest of the school day went painfully slow, for both Sara and Wirt. They were nearly biting pulling their hair out by last period. All they could think of was Greg; how he was, and if he had left the spot they told him to stay, or if he was seen.

As soon as that last bell chimed, Wirt nearly ran out of class to meet Sara at her locker.

As he was racing down the hallway, he made eye contact with Sara, who was waiting at the end of the crowded hall, and waved. But as soon as Wirt did that, as if one que, he heard his name.

"Wirt? Wirt, can you step inside my class, for a sec?" It was Mr. Johnson, the band director, who was practically yelling over the kids voices coming from the hall.

Wirt, with a concerned and annoyed face, put up his index finger towards Sara to note that he'd be a minute, and walked in. It was the last place he'd want to be, with Greg on his mind.

"Hey, buddy, take a seat. Anywhere's fine." Wirt already hated where this conversation was going.

Wirt trudged over to a seat and plopped down. Mr. Johnson pulled up a chair next to him.

"So, I've heard that you have been going through a kind of rough time right now," he started. Wirt put his face in his palm. _Ugh, not this. Anything but this_ , he thought.

"I mean, I'm no therapist, but by the way you are kind of isolating yourself, I feel that something's up. You haven't smiled in class in a long time, like I remember from last year." _Last year,_ Wirt thought. _God, last year was so different._ He suddenly felt like crying.

"Your grades aren't looking too great, either," Mr. Johnson sighed. "What's up, Wirt? Something must be going on. You can always tell me, I can help."

Wirt stood up, visibly teary-eyed. His face was flushed with anger.

"No, you can't. You can't help!" He yelled, grabbing his bookbag. Before he thought twice, he raced out of the classroom and down the hallway to Sara.

"Hey, Wirt, what happ-"

"Nothing happened!" He said, walking past her, leaving her to catch up. "Let's just get Greg, ok?"

Sara, obviously confused and a little angry to be spoken to like that, said nothing, and just put her head down as they raced through the school and out to their bikes, where they got on and rode fast to the creek.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

The log cabin in The Unknown was awfully quiet. The entire family had gone get wood, and lots of it. They were about to start construction; expanding the house in order to accommodate the new member of the family. One person, however, stayed home.

Beatrice sat at her dining room table, tapping her fingers against the dark wood. She looked at the clock on the wall, which read 4:15. Only five minutes had passed by during what seemed like hours.

Nervously, she stood up and began pacing. There was only one thing on her mind, and it was Greg. He had been gone for almost two days.

"I mean, that's not a _long_ time, right?" Beatrice muttered to herself, thinking out loud. "He needs plenty of time to do what he needs to do, see Wirt and everything. What if something happened? What if there is a bad reason he's not back yet. What if he's seen? Ugh!" She slapped her forehead with her palm repeatedly.

Suddenly, she rushed upstairs to get a rubber band, and threw her curly red hair into a bun. She raced back down and put on her shoes and opened the front door, abruptly stopping in the doorway.

"I told myself I wouldn't do this," She sighed, shaking her head. "But I have to check on Greg. I need to make sure everything's okay."

Beatrice stepped outside and ran through her front lawn, towards the creek. But just as she stepped off her property and into the woods, a familiar voice stopped her.

"Now where do you think _you're_ going, missy?" She turned to face her father, carrying stacks of wood. "You aren't going to change us back to bluebirds again, are you?" He cracked up, accidentally dropping his wood pile. Beatrice blushed.

"Aw, crap," he said, bending down to collect the mess he made. "But seriously Beatrice, we have a lot of work to do. We need to build an entire other portion of our house before it gets too cold." He got up, puffing. "You know, we'll be adding two bedrooms, so you will only have to share with Beth. I mean, if you're going to be for eternity might as well make yourself comfortable!" He laughed again, nearly dropping the wood again.

"Heh, yeah," Beatrice said, rubbing her arm awkwardly. "But, dad, I- I need to go see Greg."

"Beatrice-" He started.

"Ugh! I know you _strictly_ prohibit us from going to the outside world, and you're just worried I'm going to get us into trouble again-"

"Trouble is sugar coding it," he interrupted.

"I know! I know! But dad, _please_ just trust me! He needs my hel-"

"I don't want to have this conversation with you. My answer is no, and that's final. Do you hear me?"

"Yes dad," She mumbled.

"That's yes _sir_ to you, young lady. Now go help your family carry wood back. We need as much as we can get."

Beatrice stormed away, tears racing down her cheeks. She was so worried about Greg she thought she just may throw up.

She, very unhappily, followed her fathers commands and walked into the northern part of the woods, opposite the creek but more familiar to Beatrice and her family.

Soon after entering, she found little clearing that the family was using to chop the wood. Or, at least, most of the family. Her very young siblings were running around and giggling. It was only her parents, Billy and Beth who were doing the hard labour.

"Oh, thank goodness, Beatrice, you're here," her mother said, placing down the axe and wiping sweat from her forehead. "Come, help us."

Beatrice worked chopping wood and bringing it to the house for two and a half hours, until it became too dark to see.

They all came back to the house to have supper and wash up for bed. Needless to say, Beatrice was very quiet at the dinner table. In fact, she barely lifted her fork, with her mind on Greg and all.

All of the kids devoured their food in minutes, making it hard for Beatrice to blend in. Her mother took notice.

"Beatrice, dear, you hardly even touched your food. What's wrong?" Everyone put down their utensils, the sound of forks hitting the plates filling the room. All eyes turned to her, and she blushed. Beatrice hated that sort of attention.

"Nothing, nothing," She said, not daring to face her giggling siblings.

"Well, it sure doesn't look like 'nothing'," her mother retaliated.

Beatrice dropped her fork, facing her mother dead in the eye. "You know, it's actually cramps. I'm having such a bad period right now. You know, since everyone wanted me to go into it, I think I might as well."

Sounds of disgust came from her brothers and sisters, most of whom didn't understand the comment but were copying the noises from their older siblings.

Beatrice stood. "If you don't mind, mother, I think I will excuse myself and lie down. The blood seeping out of me is very bothersome." She walked into the kitchen to put away her plate, and walked upstairs, the "ewws" coming from her siblings and sounds of frustration from her parents.

She smirked, but quickly remembered that a snarky remark wouldn't change her situation with Greg.

Beatrice opened her eyes to see a bright sun just begin to rise. She had fallen asleep, because she was still in her clothes and shoes. She sat up and looked around.

All of her siblings, scattered all over bunk beds and mattresses on the floor, were all soundly sleeping. It must've been very early.

She thought of her situation, and immediately her brain went to Greg. She just _needed_ to check on him. This was his second night! Beatrice began pacing again, despite the hour. She finally halted.

 _You know what,_ she thought, _forget this. I'm going to find Greg. He's probably alone and terrified!_ She tiptoed downstairs and wrote a quick note. It read: I'm going to find Greg. I'll be fine, don't worry.

She raced out the door and into the woods, this time with no disruptions from family members.

Beatrice arrived at the creek and dived in.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10:

Wirt and Sara arrived at the wall, tossing their bikes aside and climbing over so fast that both of them nearly toppled off. They hopped onto the soft grass and immediately started searching for a small boy in green overalls.

"Greg! Greg!" Wirt called. In a matter of seconds he had gotten so panicked, simply because Greg wasn't in clear sight. Tears began pouring down his face.

"Woah, woah, Wirt," Sara said, trying to calm him.

"What? Why aren't you calling for him? What do you want?" Wirt cried, still frantically looking around.

"Wirt, you need to calm down, like, right now. Breath, Wirt, breath. Just because he's not in our immediate peripheral vision doesn't mean he's missing. Did you really expect him to sit in the same spot all day?"

Wirt, red in the face from both anxiety and embarrassment, shook his head and calmed a bit.

Sure enough, when they walked not two minutes down the river bank, they saw little Greg playing in the grass, his sweater tangled with burrs and leaves.

The warm afternoon sun was facing him, bringing out the color in his big green eyes when he looked up at them. Greg smiled and waved with his chubby hands, pointing to a little pile of dirt and grass he made.

Wirt let out a sigh of relief, as if he had been holding his breath the entire time they searched.

Wirt ran and scooped up his little brother in a big hug, Greg giggling, squirming in his arms. He placed kisses all over his little head.

"Thank _goodness_ you're safe," Wirt cried.

After a good five minutes of hugging, Wirt and Sara looked at little Greg and laughed.

"What _happened_ to you, little man?" Sara said, pointing to the dirt and leaves all over his body. Greg just shrugged.

"I don't know. I just saw some leaves, and I was like, 'Man, I gotta roll in those leaves.'" The three of them laughed.

When all was settled, and Greg continued keeping himself entertained with a bunch of twigs and dirt, Sara saw the opportunity to talk to her close friend.

She and Wirt walked over and sat on the tall grass next to the train tracks, with Greg in their line of sight. They let the sun warm up their chilly bodies, made cold from the brisk October weather.

Sara shook her head, looking down. "Wirt, what happened today? What got you so upset? I mean, people don't normally talk to their friends in such a bad wa-"

"I know, I know," Wirt interrupted, his face going red from guilt. "I-I snapped, I guess. I was just so worried about Greg, I can't even explain what I was feeling."

Sara nodded her head, the pair still not making eye contact. She looked up. "But what did Mr. Johnson say? What did he do, Wirt? You were so upset, coming back from his classroom."

Wirt continued to look down, fiddling with a tall piece of grass. He sighed, almost too embarrassed to reply. "I, uh, I don't know. He, like, had me come to talk, because he was, like, concerned about my academic performance and stuff. He mentioned how I was not looking well at all. He just asked me what was wrong, and that I could talk to him," Wirt sighed, "But, I _can't_ talk to him. I can't just go up to people and say what I'm feeling, it just doesn't work like that! My teachers don't know much about the whole Greg situation and I would love to keep it like that. Heck, I missed a _single_ day of school after he, uh, he died," he said, looking down. "It just doesn't work like that." Wirt was speaking barely at a whisper.

They sat in silence, listening to the sounds of the creek and little Greg playing. The tree branches moved back and forth in the wind, and the sun continued to set. Sara thought, deeply.

"But, Wirt," she started, "It kinda _does_ work like that. I mean, you can't just expect yourself to deal with all you've been through and not ever talk about it. Mr. Johnson was there to help you. He was concerned about your well being and he wanted you to talk, because venting really does help. It helps clear your mind, and lifts a huge weight off your chest." She sighed. "I'm no professional, but you have to stop shutting people out."

Sara looked down and mumbled, "You hardly even talk to _me_."

Wirt looked up to face Sara looking down at the grass, and he became red in the face. He hated admitting it, but he knew that was true. Sara and him were so close, but there was always this, barrier, between them.

"Sara," Wirt sighed, "You're so right, you-you really are. I mean, no wonder you probably don't feel open with me. You probably never have thought you could _really_ talk to me, because I've never talked to you."

She put her index finger up. "Well, except for yesterday morning, when you were at my house and we were, like, eating breakfast and stuff. You really let loose, and it was nice. It was really nice. But, just like that, you went back to this uptight self. I thought I had made progress, but we were just back where we started."

Wirt nodded. It did feel good to cry, especially with Sara.

"I don't know why I don't open up, and why it's so hard for me," Wirt started, "but I really appreciate your advice, Sara. You're the best."

"Hey, don't mention it," she said, taking Wirt's hand. They smiled and looked at each other a bit more, until Greg came running up the hill, pointing to the sun.

"Wirt? Wiiiiirrrrttt?" He called. Sara and Wirt quickly retracted their hands and looked up and whining Greg. "I'm cold and the sun's going down and I really gotta pee."

The three got back on their bikes, Greg tucked underneath Wirt's coat, and set off for home.

It was already dark, around 5:30, and Sara helped Wirt make some dinner for the three of them. It was no surprise that Wirt's mother and stepfather weren't home. They always worked late, on both weekdays and weekends. It had occurred to Wirt a few months ago that they had to put on the extra work hours to pay off the medical bills. They were endless, and forced his parents to work on some of Greg's final days.

The rest of the night went smoothly, compared to the previous one. Greg's presence seemed natural to Wirt, as if nothing had ever happened. As if his younger brother didn't just die a week prior, and was now sitting at their dining room table. The three ate their dinner, and Sara put on a show as Wirt gave Greg a bath and tucked him into his makeshift bed. Wirt looked at little Greg just before he turned out the lights. He couldn't really believe that his brother was there, but at the same time it felt as though it made sense, as if it was supposed to happen. He shook his head in confusion as he leaned down and kissed his brother goodnight.

"I love you Wirty-Wirt! Goooooooooodnight!" Greg exclaimed.

"Goodnight, Greg. I love you," Wirt replied, smiling.

He turned off the lights and headed downstairs, checking his watch. It was only a bit after 7, but it was so dark outside. He took a seat next to Sara on the couch, who had decided to work on some homework while randomly glancing at the television. She looked up at him and gave a half-smile.

"You doing ok?" She asked. Such a simple question, but by the looks of it, she didn't want a simple reply. Wirt looked at her, and sighed. He knew he would have to talk, _actually_ talk.

"Uh, I guess, considering our situation," he laughed a bit, which cause Sara to smile. "I'm just confused, I think. I'm starting to believe that Greg's presence is a sign for me, if I don't sound crazy. I don't know, I'm kind of learning to appreciate what, or who, I've got while I still have it. I love Greg, and only now is the first time I genuinely told him that, something that he should have heard before it was too late."

Sara breathed, "Yeah, I understand that a lot."

Wirt looked up at Sara's round, brown eyes, thinking. He stared at her for a while, every so often opening his mouth as if he was going to say something, then closing it. Just before Sara was going to ask if he was ok, Wirt spoke up.

"Sara, I love you," he stated. Sara blushed immediately, looking away from Wirt. He, for once, didn't flinch or worry.

"Uh, um," Sara started, "I don't know if right _now_ is the best time to talk about this-"

"No, hear me out," he interrupted. "I mean, you want me to speak honestly with you, and I will. Greg's appearance has made me understand that we have to talk about this. Who knows what is going to happen tomorrow, I need to tell you when we have the opportunity."

Sara looked up, blushing but smiling. Wirt gave a half smile, and wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"Sara, I, uh, I love you like a lot. I mean I feel like there's always been some tension between us and stuff, uh…I want to make out with you and stuff," Wirt paused and looked at Sara. He was blushing now, and Sara rolled her eyes.

"You're such a dork," she said, just before she grabbed his face and kissed him. Wirt couldn't believe what was happening, and he closed his eyes as they made out. After a solid amount of time passed, they pulled apart, sweating and blushing. Sara laughed.

"Dude, you have _no_ idea how long I wanted to do that," she laughed at him. Wirt exhaled a sigh of relief.

"R-really? I was _so nervous_ to tell you that, and uh, I just can't believe that happened!" He exclaimed. They both laughed, sitting closely together as Sara put her head on Wirt's shoulder. Suddenly Sara's phone buzzed, and she groaned.

"My dad's here to pick me up," she said, collecting her things. She looked at Wirt, who was still sitting on the couch. "If you need _anything_ , just call me. Also, uh, I love you too Wirt. I love you a lot."

Wirt grinned as he got up to close the door behind her. Just as she was leaving, she turned around and kissed him quickly again. He blushed viciously, but smiled and waved goodbye. She left, and he closed the door behind her and slumped against it, exhausted.

"Oh my _God_ ," he whispered smiling, as he put his palm on his forehead.


End file.
